


Buoyed Up

by Giglet



Series: Laughing [2]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-06-26
Updated: 2002-06-25
Packaged: 2017-10-18 03:19:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/184417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Giglet/pseuds/Giglet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elijah and Billy spiral in towards each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Secret Jedi Mind Tricks

**Author's Note:**

> The next morning after "Hedonism 101".

  
The next morning, the questions and jokes started. It started in Feet, "So, you two had your Dirty Weekend, eh?" said a particularly forward guy from Weta.

Elijah blinked, still half-awake and not expecting the question, but Billy was prepared. "Oh yeah, it was great. I had to pay the dancing girls extra, because they didn't want to leave 'Lijah, but I finally got them all back on the coach."

"Dancing girls?"

"Mm. Exotic dancers. I could only afford about 20 of them, what with hiring the coach and the security guards, but the Cirque de Soleil gymnasts let me pay them in booze, so they rounded out the group nicely." He paused reflectively, "Amazing, really, what you can do if you're that flexible."

"You are so full of shit!"

The questions continued in Wigs. "Elijah, what really happened?"

Elijah just shook his head mournfully, "I don’t know how we'll fix the rips in the sheets. I'll lose the security deposit for sure."

"Don't bother about the sheets, you can afford new ones," Billy said. "It's the carpets that I'd worry about. Vaseline looks lovely under the black lights, but it's hell to get off. I spent hours in the shower last night and I still don't think I got it all out of my hair."

"Oh, is that what it was?" the woman who'd glued on his wig said, playing along. "No wonder your hair was so shiny." And it went from there.

If Peter had asked what happened, Billy would have told the truth and because nothing said on set was ever really private, everyone would soon have learned exactly what happened. But Peter didn't ask and Billy didn't tell. Elijah had probably told Sean, maybe even his assistant, Julie, but none of them were talking either. So the crew remained entertained -- if not entirely content -- with the increasingly wild story.

Later that day, when Elijah said, "Yeah, but then Billy started washing my feet and it turned into a big gay orgy," Billy choked for a moment and couldn't think of a quick reply. Elijah's grin was positively wicked. And that was, largely, the end of that.

Later that week, though, at lunch, Elijah said, "Hey Sensei, I need some advice."

There was nobody else at their table just now. It was about as private as they could get while still in the catering tent. Billy put down his sandwich, cupped his chin in his palm, and prepared to listen.

Elijah didn't just launch into it, though. He took a moment, chewing on his thumbnail, keeping his eyes down. Billy waited.

"I've got a date for Saturday. With this woman from Queenstown. And. . ."

Advice? Billy remembered, vividly, why he'd decided he never wanted to be a father. This was embarrassing as hell. "Wear a condom."

"Well duh," Elijah replied, unimpressed.

"Not just for that. It'll keep you from being too quick off the mark so you can spend some time making her happy." Elijah remained unimpressed. "Same as before, just pay attention. You've got a lot of skin, she's got a lot of skin, enjoy it."

"No secret Jedi tricks?"

Billy laughed. "Don't point your lightsaber at someone unless you intend to use it."

Elijah rolled his eyes, and then Viggo came over, and the conversation turned as they gave him good-natured shit about the "our beloved hobbits" comment he'd written on a print.

Later, as they waited for some lights to be adjusted before the next take, Elijah said, low in his ear, "I'm not usually that fast, you know."

Billy shrugged. "You're young, don't worry about it."

Elijah looked pissed, but didn't reply.


	2. Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chocolate is better than many things. (Also, piles of Hobbits)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A largely gratuitous snapshot, because I haven't had good chocolate in far too long.

The crew needed another 15 minutes at least before the next scene. Some days just sucked, Billy thought, sitting and stretching his legs out in front of him on the ground, closing his eyes and leaning back into Dom. Dom wavered for a moment, then steadied and put an arm around him.

What should have been an easy shoot was plagued by technical mishaps that day, and it was throwing the actors off so they flubbed their lines. Even if Peter stayed cool and understanding, they still felt the pressure of trying to make up for lost time and keep to schedule. It had been exhausting, it was nearing the end of the day, and Billy would have been happy to just lay down on the ground and nap, but Costume would get upset and who knew what would happen to his ears if he slept on them?

If he had to remain sitting up, at least he could lean on Dom. Not moving seemed like the rarest of luxuries.

In a few minutes, Dom's arm relaxed, loosened, and another hand rested on Billy's shoulder. He stirred himself to open an eye and look around. He was leaning on Dom -- who looked to be fast asleep -- and Dom was leaning on Viggo, who had his back against a tree. Like a pile of kittens, they were, worn out from playing and sleeping in a pile. He smiled.

Viggo grinned back. "Duermese, perian," he said in a near-whisper. Billy didn't have a clue what the words meant, but appreciated the sentiment: Viggo didn't mind being furniture and Billy didn't need to move. Good enough.

He looked around for the other Hobbits, a habit so ingrained that he barely noticed himself doing it. Sean was talking with Sean Bean about something and they were both on their feet. Amazing. If Billy were a better person, he'd bully Sean into sitting down, putting his hurt foot up, and putting another icepack on it. Instead, he stayed where he was.

Ah. Elijah had gotten his hands on a Gameboy and appeared to be deeply into blasting aliens or whatever one did with those things. After breaking four pocket calculators in three days, Billy had mostly given up on portable electronics (except, of course, for the lifeline of an actor -- his cell-phone).

Liv was on set, he noticed. Liv, in fact, was striding towards them like a sexy angel with a mission and a carrier bag. He felt his usual surge of interest in her, and repressed it as usual -- Liv was happily engaged and off limits.

"Five minutes!" the AD shouted, rousing Dom behind him.

Liv sank into a crouch beside them. "I'm the chocolate fairy, come to bring treats to all good Hobbitses," her gaze shifted and she smoldered at Viggo, "and Men."

Viggo's eyes nearly glowed and Billy didn't know him well enough to know whether his reaction to Liv was Aragorn or himself or both.

"Chocolate?" Billy asked hopefully.

Liv broke eye-contact with Viggo and reached into her bag. "I thought of you when I got these." She handed over a chocolate truffle nearly the size of a tennis ball.

Billy was too tired to sort out what she meant -- did it mean she thought he had big balls, or a big something else, or was she comparing him to the candy, or did it just mean that Liv remembered how dearly he loved chocolate? He looked at it dumbly for a moment, taking in the lighter-colored round top. "Thanks. It, um, looks like a breast, Liv."

"Be gentle, then." She offered the others truffles as well before walking over to the Seans.

The chocolate was already melting onto his hands.

Dom looked over his shoulder. "Nearly life-size, too. Go on, then."

Billy took a dainty bite, and felt the flavors explode through his mouth. It felt, he thought, like the first rush of heroin, only less addictive, and legal, and it didn't involve sticking a needle into yourself, and it was oh oh like laughter, like... analogies failed him and he just tasted, his entire being concentrated on his mouth.

Someone, he realized, was snickering. Dom. "Billy's got chocolate," he explained to someone else.

"Hey Elijah," someone else asked, "is that what Billy looks like when he comes?"

"How the hell should I know?" Elijah replied, irritated, and obviously not thinking about his answer.

Billy thought he should open his eyes and put a stop to the fun at his expense, but there was still more truffle to eat, and really, his priorities were clear. Good chocolate trumped dignity any day.

He finished the last bite just as they were being asked to line up for the next shot. When he opened his eyes, a man from makeup was right next to him, ready to hand him a wet towel to wipe his hands -- he must have managed to eat the truffle without getting any chocolate on his face because the makeup guy looked amused rather than annoyed. So did the others nearby. Elijah had wandered over and was watching Billy as well. Elijah wasn't looking amused in the least.

"What?" Billy asked.

"You really like chocolate, don't you?"

Dom laughed out loud. "How'd you guess?"

Elijah flushed, but persisted, "Better than anything?"

It was clearly important to Elijah for some unfathomable reason, so Billy replied gently, seriously, "No. Not better than anything. But it's right up there on my favorites list. Why?"

Elijah shook his head, the AD called to them again to get into place, and Billy had no time to do more than share a quizzical glance with Dom before he pulled Pippin's persona over himself again and replaced the oddities of his coworkers with worries about their getting home to the Shire again, in one piece each.


	3. Saturday night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> About sex, violence, and the abuse of alcohol, without anyone actually having sex. Or violence. The hangovers, however, are likely to be impressive. Also, all about desire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kaneko and Aral tried. I decided to post it anyway.

"Testosterone night at my place," Sean declared that Saturday afternoon. "Lousy action movies, drinking." It sounded like heaven to Billy.

Billy and Dom stopped to pick up beer and whiskey on the way. John was already there, and Sean was just coming back from the video store. "I got Speed 2, Commando -- because no testosterone night would be complete without Schwarzenegger," Sean said, "and Rambo III."

"Where's Orlando?" Dom asked, settling onto the couch with his first beer.

"Prick has a hot date with a tall blond. Elijah, too," Sean explained.

"Same blond?" Dom asked.

Sean threw the remote at him. He hauled the case of beer over to within handy reach of the viewers, handed Billy a shot glass, and, his hosting duties completed, took command of the reclining armchair. Once Dom had shifted over on the couch to make room for Billy, they popped in Rambo and got on with it. All three of the Hobbits had chosen seats where they could put their feet up.

It was an evening for absorbing alcohol and eye candy, maybe ragging on the movie for the turkey it was, and for not thinking about anything at all. The drinking game degenerated when Sean and Dom started arguing over the rules, but it had been a stupid game in the first place, so it was abandoned without regret. "Right," John said, standing up to leave after the first movie was over, "I've killed about as many brain cells as I have to spare for tonight. Keep up the good work."

Billy saluted him with the shot glass, Dom and Sean with their beers.

The next conversation was a good hour -- and some unknown number of gray cells -- later. They were in a lull in Commando between the episodes of mayhem, a lull filled with lousy dialog.

"I wish to god I were gay," Billy said, watching the men on the screen.

Dom, who'd been casually rubbing his back, stopped and looked at him with a half smile. "You what?"

"If I was lusting after Ahnold's mighty thews," Billy skipped the "r" in "Arnold" and Dom smirked, "it'd be easier to ignore the writing and the acting. Or lack thereof."

Dom began rubbing again. "I thought you were bi?" He spoke quietly. Sean, over in the armchair, didn't appear to be listening.

Billy thought that over. "Bisexual?" he mused. "No, we didn't have that when I was growing up. No cell phones, no Internet, no bisexuals. You either got hot for girls, which was fine; or hot for boys, which you did your damnedest to hide. If you were like me, you had varying degrees of sex with anyone who would let you. I'm straight."

"Billy. If you wanted to have sex with anyone who would let you, you're bi."

"No, I was just young."

Dom laughed. "No, when you were a kid, you were just too desperate to get laid to care that you were bisexual. Now you're just repressed as hell and not getting any."

"Fuck you, too, Mr. Monaghan." He leaned forward to uncap the whisky bottle again.

"But then you'd be proving me right if you did, wouldn't you?"

"Don't want you. Not like that." Billy waved at the screen, "Don't want them, either."

Sean's cellphone rang. "Yeah?" he answered, barely moving his lips, eyes still on the screen. "Elijah! How'd it go? You're what? I can't hear you…You're what? You're what?" He was nearly yelling into the phone now. "You're still in the club? No fucking kidding? I would have never guessed!… I said, I would never …. Never mind. Listen… yeah, they're both here. . . Elijah…. Listen, call me when you get outside, okay? Where it's quiet! Yeah. Have fun! Yeah. Bye!"

"Elijah," Sean explained to them, back at a normal volume.

"Elijah," Dom repeated, even more quietly, watching Billy.

Billy concentrating on pouring another shot into his glass.

"Elijah," Dom persisted, "is about as far from those guys," he waved at the screen, copying Billy's movement, "as it's possible to get and still have balls."

He could act his way through this, Billy thought. He could laugh, and lean back relaxed against the couch, and lie through his teeth about not wanting Elijah, of not feeling something for Elijah. But last Sunday, Dom hadn't acted towards him, and Billy didn't want to act at Dom. Not if he didn't have to. So he stayed hunched forward, downed his shot, and put the glass back on the table to refill it again. "So?"

Dom said, "Bisexuality isn't the end of the world."

"Try telling my agent that." Billy pondered, watching the TV screen through the golden brown liquid in his glass. Did Billy want to talk about this? Did he want to continue to pretend it didn't exist? He sighed and shook his head finally. "No, I suppose it wouldn't be the end of the world. But it wouldn't work out, either."

"Work out? It's a shoot, Billy."

A shoot. A brief moment out of time, when everyone was more intense, everything was speeded up, when people came together and came apart, and when the shoot was over in a month or maybe at most two months, they'd go their separate ways, unlikely to meet again outside of Hollywood until, perhaps, someday they might be lucky enough to be thrown together on another shoot. An on-set romance was more important than a one-night-stand, but not a serious thing, not a real-life relationship.

"It's a year long shoot."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"I'd just…" Billy shut up and thought. What was his problem? Heterosexuality was a convenient excuse, but it didn't even sound convincing to himself, and Dom certainly wasn't buying it. "I'd rather spare myself the grief."

Dom pried the cap off a new beer, and watched a flurry of unlikely stunts on the screen. When the action slowed again, he said, "You're an idiot, Billy." Without taking his eyes from the screen, he added, "You know that?"

Billy sighed. "I know that."

"Good."


	4. Salmon and Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tropical Storm Elijah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elijah POV, Elijah monologue.
> 
> Many many thanks to Kaneko, Tvillingar, and Aral for their insightful betas.
> 
> (Biology note: I do know that that's not how salmon reproduce, but Elijah doesn't.)

Billy's directing "Wilde" and I'm about to do a love scene with Orlando. We're in bed, under the covers, kissing, but it's not what Billy's looking for. He stops the cameras and comes over and climbs into bed behind me. "Look," he says to us both, with that accent that sounds too attractive to be real, "you've got all that skin, just pay attention. Like this." Then Billy grabs Orlando behind the neck and pulls him into a hot nasty kiss right over my head. His other hand is burrowing down under the covers, sliding over my skin, making me shiver, jerking me off. When I'm almost there, he pulls away, and says, "wait, wait!" and gets out of the frame so that he can film me and Orli throwing ourselves at each other, desperate to get off now that he's wound us up.

But when I'm about to kiss Orli, he turns into Billy, and now Peter's directing. He yells, "Cut" and comes over. I'm ready to pop, I'm incredibly ready, but _now_ Billy's having problems getting his head into it. He's got his shirt off, his Pippin wig is tousled, he looks bewildered like he doesn't know why he's there, like he's never done a sex scene before. Peter has to remind him (again) to look turned on.

I've never seen Peter look this pissed off at an actor. I'm really worried that he's going to fire Billy. The cameras aren't rolling but I grab him anyway, and kiss the bejesus out of him -- tongue, teeth, everything I can think of. I feel like I'm date-raping him, and he's going all "blushing virgin" at me, but I've got to get him in the mood fast, before Peter fires him. I'm chewing on his ear, saying "Pay attention to _me_ , God damn it" about the time that I come, and wake up.

Hell of a dream.

I'm alone in bed and my spunk's on the sheets. I want to jump up and clean up and pace and just get away from the dream, but I make myself lay still for a bit. If I want to get away from it this badly, then I'd better figure it out. I grope around on the table for my cigs and lighter. I watch the moon-shadows on the far wall, remembering how Billy was fine when he was the director, but panic-stricken when he was an actor. Think about how I wanted him, either way.

Think about calling Sean, even get the phone in my hand, but it's 2 in the morning. I could call him, but I'd rather save it for sometime when I'm really desperate. I don't need Sean to figure out Billy right now. I need Billy to figure out Billy.

I call a cab.

Billy's never going to make the first move, the idiot. And he's never going to take me up on my passes at him. I don't know why, but I intend to find out.

The point that Billy is missing, is that we're _actors_. We act, we don't get paid just for reacting. We make things happen, and none of us would be here except for ridiculous luck (in our agent, the casting director, the people we know) and the endless pushing to get the next role. All my life, I've watched everyone around me pushing, trying to get to the front of the crowd. I've been pushing myself, for nearly as long as I remember. I'm good at it. Pushing, jostling with every other actor in LA, like rugby players, like hordes of lemmings -- or um --like salmon, that's a better image, like salmon swarming upstream to have sex and spawn. Except that for actors like us, our streams are auditions and getting that next job is even more important than sex.

Hell, getting that next job improves our chances at having sex, because if you get the job then you're a winner, you've got the right stuff. Being on the Variety A list means you're the alpha salmon (are there alpha salmon?). If you're a winner, then no matter what you look like, or even what you act like, you're a desirable mate.

I'm doing pretty good right now. I'm Frodo in three movies that are going to be awesome when they hit the screen, going to make the swim towards my next part just that much easier. I'm young, I'm good at what I do, I'm pretty much the alpha actor on this shoot and in this country. I'm smart and ambitious enough to not fuck up in any of the ways I've watched other actors spike their careers. And I'm not a jerk, which is clearly a bonus rather than a necessary attribute. Pretty strangers are tripping all over themselves to get into my pants.

I like getting laid. Well, duh. I don't take it as seriously as, say, _work_ \-- at least I haven't since the first time -- but sex is still pretty important. I really like knowing that I can get laid when I want to.

I could have gone to bed with Jeanette last Saturday -- I could probably have had Jeanette in a dark corner of that club, if I'd really wanted to. I could have had Jeanette and picked up another pretty girl or pretty boy, and fucked them the same night, and continued any night I'm not completely whacked from work.

Funny thing -- if we were in LA, I bet I would be fucking some stranger every night. But at home I've got family who knows who I am. Here, there are plenty of people to fuck, but not many people who know me. I want both. I don't know why it wasn't important before, but it is now.

Billy knows me. Billy wants me, I'm pretty sure. Sean thinks so, too. And I want him. I don't know what his problem is, but I'm going to find out. And then I'm going to fix it. And then I'm going to drag him into the nearest bedroom and make him feel as good as he made me feel, and we'll fuck like Energizer Bunnies, and in the morning I'm going to smile at him and he'll smile back at me, and we'll know each other even better, and then we'll go back to work, and it'll all be good.

If you're from LA and you want something, you figure out how to push past whatever is in your way to get to where you need to be. I'm the alpha salmon of pushing.

Billy doesn't stand a chance.


	5. Sex Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elijah's not obsessed. Just very focused on getting laid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta readers are a joy of my life, without whom I'd be posting crap.

Elijah stood outside the door for a minute, phone in hand, trying to decide whether to call or ring the doorbell. Really, he was hesitating, afraid that Billy would throw him out -- or worse yet, make him some hot chocolate and tuck Elijah in on the couch before going back to sleep alone in his bed.

In the end, Elijah hit speed-dial and the buzzer at the same time.

Billy picked up the phone first. "What?" he asked, still sounding mostly asleep.

"Answer the door, Billy."

Billy opened the door a moment later, wearing only a pair of trousers with the belt still hanging undone. "Elijah?"

Elijah launched himself at Billy, intending a kiss, but somehow Billy -- the aikido master of avoiding intimacy -- turned it into a friendly hug, one-handed even, as he swung the door shut.

"Elijah, what's wrong?"

"We should fuck."

"What?"

God. Shirtless, bewildered, like in the dream. But, unlike in the dream, Elijah couldn't just grab Billy and start making out.

"We should fuck now. What's your problem with this?"

Billy was finally getting with the program. "That," he said, grumpy as hell, "is none of your business."

"None of my -- Oh, fuck off, Billy!"

Billy had a dozen stock replies to that -- everything from "here, now?" to "you'll have to talk to my agent about that" but this time he just stood there. Blinking.

"What," Elijah asked, "what's your comeback today? You always say something."

Billy shook his head silently. He looked so lost that Elijah just wanted to hug him, but he couldn't, not right now, not until they had this out.

"Tell me." Elijah leaned forward, intense. "I want you. If you tell me you don't want me, I won’t believe it, but I'll walk out of here and I won't ask again. But you have to tell me."

Billy stuck his hands deep in his pockets. "I. . . "

"What's the problem?"

"God, Elijah, could you please pick on someone your own size for once?"

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Why are you here? Why aren't you out dating a horny college girl who has nothing to do with the movie?" One hand waved vaguely, as though conjuring up the perfect lover for Elijah, "Someone your own age. Someone beautiful. It shouldn't be hard."

"Because I don't want her. I want you. How many more times do I have to say it?"

"But why?" Billy seemed genuinely distressed. "I can see a handjob between mates, but there are plenty of women who'd be happy to have sex with you…"

Elijah growled, an odd sound, "Because I'm fucking bisexual, okay? Because you turn me on, okay? Because you know me, and you’re not too old for me, and I don't care that you're in the movie, I'd want you anyway."

Billy rubbed his eyes, and turned away, "Look, c'mon in the kitchen, I'll make tea."

Elijah grabbed his arm. "I'm not here for tea."

"I know you're not here for tea, but it's too damn late" he glanced at the wall clock, "or too damn early. I'm not awake enough to have this conversation, so I'm making tea."

"Don't offer me hot chocolate," Elijah said, still gripping Billy's arm.

"What?"

"Just don't okay?"

"It's not on my checklist of things to do when mates knock me up in the middle of the night demanding to know why I haven't made passes at them."

Elijah giggled at Billy's wording, let go of his arm, then immediately regretted it when Billy said, "Should it be?"

"No." He followed Billy into the tiny kitchen, complete with two burners on the stove and a tiny table just big enough for a ridiculously large pile of mail, addressed to Dom. Why was Dom's mail there?

Elijah leaned against the fridge and said, "And it isn't that you haven't made a… a pass at me, it's why you've ignored all my passes at you, but you still look at me like…" he shook his head, abandoning that line of thought. "That whole thing about hedonism. I mean-"

Billy filled the kettle and set it on the burner, but he didn't turn the stove on. He turned and faced Elijah. "That wasn't about sex."

"Are you kidding?" There's clueless, and then there's sheer denial, and Billy seemed to be sliding solidly into the denial camp. Elijah made sure he wouldn't misunderstand. "It was definitely about sex for me. And unless you were carrying a flashlight in your pocket, it was for you, too."

Billy looked frustrated, and very tired, and didn't say anything at all.

"So you don't want me. You didn't feel anything at all when you were on the bed with me?"

"Elijah. . ."

"Why won't you say that you want me?"

Billy ran a hand through his short hair, then on down the back of his skull to rub his neck. He rolled his head back, only for a moment. Elijah watched, trying not to salivate. "I used to sleep around. I don't anymore, I don't do casual sex anymore, Elijah. You're nineteen. I. . .don't want to be left behind when you go on to your next lover."

Elijah gaped at him. "So you'd rather not try at all? You’d rather be Chaste Uncle Billy and jerk off alone? That's not only fucked up, that's fucking insulting."

"What I want is to fall for a nice girl who's ready to settle down and can support my chocolate habit. I never wanted -- "

"Me?" Elijah said.

Billy sighed. "To fall for you. But I did."

Jesus, about time, Elijah thought. He stepped into Billy's space, reached out and put a hand where Billy's had been, on the nape of his neck. "I dreamed about you," Elijah said. "About kissing you." Then he reeled Billy in, slowly, slowly, until Elijah had to tip his head to avoid bumping noses, and then they were kissing, so softly that it barely registered on Elijah's nerves that those were Billy's lips moving against his, Billy's bristly chin tickling his cheek.

"Chocolate. I want you to want me like chocolate," he whispered, eyes closing. And that, apparently, was exactly the right thing to say, because suddenly Billy's hands were on his hips, and Billy's mouth was open and hot against his, Billy's tongue licking across his, and the length of Billy's body was tight against him, and there was no more reserve, no more waiting from Billy.

Elijah thought, "good, good, good, good" as he ground and thrust his tongue into Billy's mouth.

"Bed," Billy said, and pulled back far enough to separate them for a moment. "Come to bed with me."

"Oh yeah." Elijah laughed.

Billy tried to lead him, but Elijah moved faster, and it turned into a race into the bedroom. Elijah won, jumping onto the bed and his momentum pushed the mattress half off the box spring and onto the floor. Everything on the bed flew into the corner, as did he, rolling off the now-tilting mattress and onto the floor. He took the opportunity to kick off his shoes while he was down there.

Billy was laughing at him, and hauling at the mattress from his side of the bed. Elijah braced his back against the wall and pushed with his legs, and they bullied the mattress back into place. Elijah tossed the pillows back on, but left the comforter and a stuffed animal -- a giraffe? What the hell? -- on the floor. He was in a hurry to get on the bed himself, to get his hands on Billy.

He pulled Billy into the bed. Billy came easily, willingly, first kneeling up on the bed, then keeling over sideways onto the pillows. Elijah went with him, not caring to fight gravity, too intent on exploring skin, the hair on his chest, the different texture of the hair at his nape, running his hands over the shape of Billy's shoulder muscles, the line of his collarbone. It was like the opposite of sculpting, his hands learning the shape and the feel and the meaning of Billy, the essence of Billy, the eros of Billy. He wanted to devour Billy with his hands, just absorb him right through his palms.

Billy's hands were pulling his shirt out, delving underneath, then settling on his waist. Letting him, letting Elijah touch, letting him explore, and then hands weren't enough, Elijah wanted to feel it all with his lips, and when he brought his face near, he got the free bonus of smell, and then taste as he licked the salt from the hollow at the base of Billy's neck. Billy lifted his chin farther out of the way and groaned, which felt weird, little vibrations and the shifting skin when his Adam's apple moved.

It was fantastic, it was more than he'd expected, it was big-screen Technicolor when he'd expected a sitcom. Billy was a pinball machine that kept lighting up and throwing bonus points back at him.

And maybe Billy wasn't all that patient, because he'd flopped around, so he could put his mouth on Elijah's belly, he was pulling the shirt up now, and Elijah could go with that, he could definitely see where more skin was a good idea, and he wriggled out of the shirt and while he was at it, wearing anything was too much, the pants had to go -- he rolled on his back and curled up and grazed his hands down his sides -- no belt, fucking hooray, and his underwear was geeky BVDs, so he scraped those down his legs at the same time, hoping Billy wouldn't see -- but why would Billy care about that? More skin to pay attention to, he should like that, and oh god, his socks didn't match again, but again, why the fuck should either of them care about that, he had pinball Billy waiting for him, and he was finally, finally naked and ready to rumble.

Billy, incredibly, was still fumbling with his pants button, and Elijah wasn't willing to wait -- he grabbed and pulled and that strength training paid off: the button went flying and Elijah yanked down the zipper and then it was Billy's turn to push off the pants and he was wearing nothing underneath. Billy's cock was hard and curved, and why had Elijah wasted any time at all on Billy's neck when he could have had his lips here instead? He sucked on the head, tasting the salt, tasting the bitter, and if he'd wanted to absorb Billy before, now he was ravenous -- he was going to devour Billy, sucking out his brains through his cock, or even more, sucking the marrow from his bones if he could.

But Billy, dammit, had grabbed him under the arms and was pulling him up, up, and Elijah couldn't fathom why until Billy kissed him, just dived into his mouth, and grabbed Elijah's cock and rolled on top of him to rub and slide over him, rough and delicious friction, and he wasn't sure who was the pinball game anymore because he felt like he was bouncing, lighting up, and ringing like bells and sirens, and then Billy's fingers pushed in, right behind his balls, like pushing an obscene button to work Elijah's flippers, he pushed there and Elijah responded by coming in spurts and the stars behind his eyes blew up.

He was vaguely aware of Billy thrusting against him, of Billy saying his name and something else, and then of the heat against his belly and Billy's grunts, and that must've been Billy getting off, and everything in the universe was fine, fine, better than fine, fantastic, and it was time to sleep now.


	6. After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damage-control Dom.
> 
> Dom POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to kaneko, tvillingar and arallara for making it not suck too much.

I grabbed the phone when I realized who was leaving the message – just soon enough to hear Billy say “Dom, I’m coming over,” and hang up. “Fuck!” I said into the handset.

"Again?" Delilah turned over in my bed, brown hair spilling across the pillows, "I'm up for it if you are." Her breasts were white in the moonlight.

If I kissed her again, I wouldn't get out of bed. I swung myself up, "Can't, love. Billy's coming over."

"At this time of night?" It wasn't quite four yet.

I shrugged. If it had been Elijah or Orli, I'd have told them to fuck off, because the wankers forget that some of us need to sleep. But Billy wasn't the sort to come over before breakfast just because he was jonesing for a game of Scrabble. "We're mates."

"Are you sure you have your priorities straight?"

I just looked at her. I'd spent two weeks chasing her, calling her, spending every spare moment of my days off wooing her, and finally getting her to spend the night tonight. Billy's timing sucked. As usual. On-camera with a script he was fine, but he was lousy at improv. I’d already had to rescue some of our interviews.

"I have to be up in an hour anyway." She waited another moment, but I couldn't say what she wanted, that she was more important than my friends, than the other Hobbits. She continued, "I'm going home. You can take me out to dinner on Friday if you want to talk."

"I will." I pulled on a pair of boxers. "Delilah… I'll call you. To make a date for dinner, okay? But it'll have to be Sunday, we're shooting late on Friday, and we're working Saturday."

She climbed out of bed, yanked her clothes on, and got her things together. I was just holding her coat for her when the doorbell rang.

She opened the door, bag in hand, and Billy fell in. Literally fell, to the floor, as though he'd been leaning heavily on the door.

She rolled her eyes and stepped daintily over him. "Have fun, boys." And then Delilah was gone and I was wincing and Billy was rolling over onto his back.

"Dom?" He was wearing his surfing jacket, but no shirt. His jeans weren't buttoned to the top, and I could see that he wore no pants under them.

"Yeah?"

" I fucked up. I think Peter's going to kill me."

I gave him a hand up. "Only if I don't kill you first, you cunt." I headed for the kitchen to get some whiskey.

"Yeah, sorry about that." Even Billy could see that he'd just fucked things up between me and Delilah. "I'll send her flowers, that usually helps," he said, unconcerned, "but you have to help me with Peter."

I brought two shot glasses and the bottle to the couch in the den, and poured them out. Then I pushed one shot down the coffee table to Billy. "Sit. Spill."

He had his head in his hands, "I fucked with Lij."

Ooh. Yeah, Peter might kill him. "How?"

He looked at me incredulously, "What, you want a blow-by-blow? Which I didn't, by the way, although I would have if I'd gotten around to it before I blew my wad and came to my senses."

He wasn't talking metaphorically after all. "You really fucked him?"

Billy downed his shot before answering. "No penetration, but… god, why did it have to get complicated? I didn't mean to lay a hand on him, and then he was in my face and I just…"

I sighed. Time for some damage-control, even if I couldn't see exactly where the damage was. I pushed the second glass at him. "So where is he now?"

"Sleeping it off at my place."

"Drink."

Billy drank.

"Did he say no to you?"

Billy laughed, a little panicky, "No, he didn't say no."

Why did it always take at least three shots before Billy opened up? I refilled the glasses while I thought and took another look at him. Billy was usually level-headed -- a pain in the ass, but when he freaked out, he usually had a reason for it. His hand was shaking a little when he downed the third shot.

"Billy," I said slowly, "Did you say no?"

He lifted the refilled glass and got outside of the whiskey. "No," he mumbled. "It was just like a commando movie -- maybe I should've installed a machine-gun nest…God, Peter's going to kill me." He put down the glass and sagged, nearly falling off the couch, "I'm just going to…"

"Wait, wait," I grabbed him and hauled him back up. Billy was shaking. "Before you start, tell me -- " but it was too late, because Billy had doubled over and was laughing, or something that should have been laughing, might have been laughter at another time, but this was harsh, more like wheezing, like gasping.

Billy had waved me away before, but this wasn't like those times. I pulled him over and just held him. When he quieted down some, when he shifted over so he was half-laying across my legs, I started whispering inanities like, "Shh, it'll be okay." Which was a bald-faced lie. Still, it's what you said, and it sounded like what Billy needed.

He shifted so that he was facing my belly, one arm looped around my back. His eyes were still closed, and he was still trembling. So damn Pippinish.

All this because he'd had sex with Elijah? Before tonight, I would have bet that Elijah wouldn't get laid for another couple months, and that Billy wouldn't get laid during the shoot at all. What was the problem? Stumped, I finally asked, "You wanted him, you got him…Why are you freaking out, Bill?"

Billy rolled onto his back, eyes open, clear and green and almost calm. "He…hell if I know."

"But you are freaking out."

"I think I'm done, now." But even as he said that, he was beginning to giggle again, managed to get out something about chocolate as a secret weapon, and rolled back over, laughing into my stomach.

"Or maybe not," I said.

Billy eventually settled down again. He appeared to go to sleep again, on my lap, pinning me down. Unless I shifted him, I was stuck. And hell. Billy might not know why he was freaking out, but he undoubtedly was.

I didn't really need to go anywhere. I stretched to reach my cell phone on the end table.

The first call was easy. Their driver's answering machine took the message, the way it had recorded a dozen other messages each week, because we Hobbits often ended up tucked into other beds, other couches, other places than where we paid rent. And Peter had made it clear that in order for us to get to makeup on time, the driver needed to know where to pick us up. And we do not mess with Peter. Except when we have to. "This is Dom. Billy is here. I think Elijah is at Billy's, but you might want to ring there." The driver had the numbers of their home phones.

The second call was nearly as easy. "Sean, yeah, I know it's early. Call Elijah." Sean, of course, had Elijah's cell number memorized. "Because someone needs to hit the silly cunt upside the head. Ask him why Billy just went to pieces on my couch. Yeah. I think he's asleep now, but yeah. And we may have to call Peter."

I rang off and sat in the predawn dark.

\-----------------

"Billy. C'mon Billy, time to wake up now." I shook him, "If we don’t get up now, we won't have time to shower."

Billy's breath hitched. I prayed to any available deities that Billy wasn't going into more hysterics. He didn't. Instead, he said, eyes still closed, "Dominic. Please tell me that we're not sleeping together."

"You were just dozing on me for a bit."

"Good. I don't think I could handle that right now." He opened his eyes. "I really don't."


	7. Buoyed Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dom and Sean act as lifeguards while Elijah makes waves and Billy tries to stay afloat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to tvillingar and kaneko for their comments!

"The driver's here," Dom yelled to Billy, who was still in the bathroom. Dom headed for the front door.

"Fuck, I'm not ready for this." Billy clearly meant more than just not being prepared for the pre-dawn trip to Makeup.

Dom opened the door, and watched Elijah burst from the back of the car and run up the stairs. He peered past Dom, who thrust out an arm to block the door.

"What'll you do when you see Lij?" Dom called over his shoulder, his eyes never leaving Elijah.

"You think Peter would kill me if I decked him?"

"Probably," Dom said over his shoulder. "If Peter didn't, then Sean might."

"Fuck."

"Yeah." Dom stood aside. "He's here."

Billy came out of the bathroom, water still dripping from his short hair. He froze for a minute as he saw Elijah over Dom's shoulder.

Dom said, "I'm going to go tell the driver to pick up Sean and come back. You two play nice." He closed the front door behind him.

"You left," Elijah accused.

"Damn right, I left!"

"I went too far, too fast, didn't I?" Elijah asked.

"That's not the problem. I'm not a fainting virgin. But I was your mate, eh?"

"We're still buddies. I thought."

"Not when I can't trust you any farther than I can throw you, you ass. I had a damn good reason for not wanting to bed you."

"Billy. It was a stupid reason."

"It was my reason, damn it, and it was good enough for me. And you fucking didn't listen, did you? You didn't listen and you didn't respect my decisions -- you just …" Billy rolled his eyes, angry but also seeing the ridiculous side of it, "you fucking seduced me."

"Yeah, okay, so I did." If anything, Elijah seemed rather proud of that. "But problem solved, right? You didn't want to start fucking because you didn't want to have to stop fucking -- which I still think is a load of self-protective bullshit -- but now we have started. You ready to quit now? Because I want a replay." His voice sank into its lower register, "I want to do the whole pay-attention thing. I want to go slow. I want to spend all day in bed. I want to -- "

"If you mention chocolate again, I will deck you, you cunt."

Elijah smiled, clearly keeping the mention of chocolate for another time. Instead he said, "I want to wash your feet."

Billy opened his mouth, but nothing came out. After a moment, he swallowed and started again. "I… you never stop and you never learn, do you?"

"Are you saying no?"

"No, I'm not saying no, but that's only because I'm a stupid male in rut. Of course I want to fuck again!" Billy was waving his hands, but instead of punctuating his speech they were flailing as though he'd been cast into deep water and didn't know how to swim. "But if you thought I was carrying a load of self-protective bullshit around before…" he shook his head, and his arms came down to his sides. "Elijah. I want to be your lover, not just a fuck-buddy. And you make me crazy, bad-crazy. Before I was just depressed and frustrated, but now I'm fucking paranoid. I don't trust you. I don't trust you not to fuck me over."

Elijah bit his lip, considering the problem. "So what do we do? I mean… I've never been a relationship where trust was an issue, you know? How do I fix that?"

Billy turned away and muttered something about "terrible infants".

"Would flowers help?"

"No, flowers would not fucking help. Just… you're good at figuring out what you want, eh? Try to think about what's good for us, not just for you. Because that's the only thing that's going to keep us together." Billy looked down at his hands. "Until you go to Mordor."

"Mordor." That point in the filming seemed impossibly far away to Elijah, but when it came the separation would be for a long time. A long time. Like leaving LA to live in New Zealand. He'd be different when he came back. Billy might not still be waiting.

"I don't want to go to Mordor," Elijah said, and he wasn't acting even a bit. "I want to stay here with you." He moved closer to Billy, and Billy finally reached out to him, and then they were hugging, holding on tight.

"That's what you get for being cast as Frodo instead of me," Billy joked from where his chin rested over Elijah's shoulder.

Elijah brought his knee up towards Billy's groin, but slowly. Just enough to let Billy know that the impulse existed. "But then you'd go to Mordor without me."

"You could be Sam."

"I'd never be able to put on that much weight. And Sean wouldn't want to go to Mordor with you, because I'm the only Frodo for his Sam." Elijah spoke with the complete certainty of the very young and the very loved. "I wonder if he'd kill you and hide the body so that I could be Frodo and we could be together."

"That's twisted."

"What, like we aren't already?"

A new voice intruded, "I'll say you are."

They broke apart to see Sean in the doorway. He sauntered across to hug them both, one arm around each of them. "Are you two are okay now?" He was watching Elijah, even though the question included both of them.

Elijah grinned like the sun rising and hugged him back with both two arms and all his attention. "We're great. We're chocolate!"

"Fucking chocolate," Billy grumbled under his breath.

"Too kinky for me, I don't even want to know," Sean said. "Look, Lij, Dom's waiting in the car. Give me a minute with Billy, okay?"

Elijah bounced to give him a kiss on the forehead, and smiled at Billy, and left. The two men left in the room, still arm-in-arm, exhaled once he was gone.

"Force of nature," Billy commented.

Sean nodded. "Alpha salmon." In reply to Billy's quizzical look, Sean added, "I'll explain later. For now, though…"

Billy rolled his eyes. "My intentions are honorable, he's too young to understand that this can hurt, you'll kill me if I hurt him, and I'll make sure he's ready when he's on set. Did I miss anything?"

"Only the part where I ask if you're okay." Sean shifted so his hands rested on each of Billy's shoulders. "Really okay. Not just going along with Elijah. Not being pushed into something."

Billy shrugged. "I don't know, really. I guess it's like surfing. The waves are stronger than you are, but you have to learn to trust them. Elijah's going to keep being Elijah." He smiled suddenly, "I'll probably going to end up thrashed, but it'll be a hell of a ride until then."

"If you go under, we'll pull you back up, you know. That's why you don't surf alone." The car horn sounded and Sean looked out the window. "Looks like Dom's finished having The Talk with Elijah. Let's go."


End file.
